


Words of a Dreamer

by mattymerlotte (orphan_account)



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-10
Packaged: 2018-01-18 10:27:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1425097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/mattymerlotte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During a time where magical realms existed, Calum finds himself living a mediocre life, having dreams of one day owning a restaurant with his sister, Mali, in a town where they both belong. But once Mali loses herself in a haunted woods and finds her way to a deserted castle, she asks for help from the caretaker. Unveiling his disguise, she realizes it's a monster who roams the empty castled and is now kept prisoner. Calum goes on a journey to find his sister and winds up bargaining his sister's imprisonment for his own. Despite their differences, Calum realizes that the awful beast keeping him enclosed is none other than a kind, gentle man with a curse laid upon his once lively castle. How will Calum feel once he unveils the reason why the castle is bewitched? Or better yet, how will he proceed? (Crossover between 5 Seconds of Summer [band] and based off the story of Disney's Beauty and the Beast)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Once the sun's warming rays hit my cheek the thought crosses my mind that today holds great promise, that perhaps Mr. Cettlewell will get a new shipment in the store or Mrs. Remoe will bake the rolls that Mali and I love so much. I only have hope for these things and I can't wait for what will come.

As my shoes scrape the dirt roads I see the hills far off in the distance glooming with shadows. Although on the surface it's a perfect day it seems a storm is brewing. I'll have to remember to tell Mali to lock up her outside belongings before the storm hits. The last time we had rainfall our carriage was rusty for months.

Buttercup our horse neighs from the steeple bringing me back to the present. I forgot the carrots grasped in my hand and Buttercup knows better. Before I leave for my Sunday trip to the square, I bring the horse her desired carrots and head off towards my half a mile hike over the hilly road.

On my way to the square I see a few neighbors beginning their early morning routines. Milking their cows, feeding their animals, checking their gardens, accomplishing their chores. It reminds me some of the tasks Mali and I will be doing later.

Once in the square I see the usual bunch of smiling faces. Laughter fills the open air, chatter amongst costumers and store owners, the smell of baked goods flooding the area. Which brings me to my first stop, Mrs. Remoe's bakery.

I distinctly notice the clicking my shoes make against the cobblestone pavement. It's almost melodic.

Once I open the door to the bakery, the bread smell becomes stronger. The bell atop the door rings as I enter which makes Mrs. Remoe run out of the back entryway, a smile spreading across her face at the sight of me.

"My sweet Calum! How are you honeybun? I've sure missed my favorite costumer. I thought I would never see you again! May I add that you also look dapper today! That shade of blue on your vest compliments your skin color really well," Mrs. Remoe shouts as she embraces me for a hug and kisses me on my cheeks twice. "I have the usual delivery for you and Mali, dear."

"Thanks, Mrs. Remoe. Mali always says your rolls compliment her summer meals the best and I have to say, I agree to that," I smile. Mrs. Remoe shakes the top of hair with her hands.

Mali says Mrs. Remoe adores me almost too much. The short, plump French woman is so endearing, and lovely to be around, I can't help but to have the huge grin that always seems to be planted on my face when around her.

She hands me the warm, golden rolls and I set them in the woven basket Mali made and I hand her the few coins from my pocket.

"Thanks again Mrs. Remoe. I'll be sure to tell Mali how you're doing. She was asking about you," I say.

She gives me another hug before I leave with the bread weighing down my basket.

Before I go to the next store on my list, I stop by the fountain placed in the middle of the square. Water flies out of the top and trickles down towards the pool surrounding it. I gaze into the water to see the few coins that people have thrown in, making wishes on. I can't help but to wonder if any of them comes true.

I take my time before I head to Mr. Cettlewell's bookshop. I hope maybe today will be the day someone switched or dropped off a new novel in his possession. His bookstore is filled with wall to wall, stocked shelves of books. Page after crispy page. And although I've read most of them, I still enjoy reading my favorites more than once. In fact I feel like that's what I may do today.

"Mr. Cettlewell!" I call from the entrance of the store. "Mr. Cettlewell, are you here?"

From the wrapped around corner, Mr. Cettlewell turns from the corner on a sliding ladder. His glasses falling off of his face and grey hairs sticking up in every direction.

"Calum, my boy! What brings you in today? I have to say I have no new books. Oh, are you returning this one right there?" He says, pointing to the pink colored novel in my basket.

I sigh and shrug my shoulders. "Yeah, I have to say it was a romantic story, but it wasn't my favorite. I need adventure, and thrilling stories, just something I don't have in my life. I think I'll take my usual, the story of the boy and the beanstalk."

"What's that one about?" Mr. Cettlewell offers.

"You know, Mr. Cettlewell, my favorite one; the story about the boy who gets ahold of the magic beans and grows a giant beanstalk that envelopes the sky and battles giants and saves a princess. It's a rather enchanting and exciting story," I beam. "It's so perfect with every detail."

I lay the pink colored book on the nearest table and hurry to see if the beanstalk novel is in its usual place. Of course it is. I snag it the bright green colored book from the shelves and clutch it in my hands. The smell and beautiful texture of the cover is mesmerizing and so familiar.

I give a big smile to Mr. Cettlewell. "Thanks again! I'll bring it right back once I'm done."

"Wait, wait, wait, Calum! Why don't you keep this one? You seem to enjoy it so much and I be more than happy to let you keep it."

I stammer with my words before I can make a coherent sentence. "Are you sure?" I question. "Are you sure? I mean, that's perfectly fine Mr. Cettlewell, but I would just feel awful. I mean I–“

"No, no, just keep it," he interjects. "Just keep it. Consider it a present."

The cover of the book reminds me of home in my hands.

"Thanks, this means a lot. I'll be sure to take care of it."

We say our goodbyes and once again I find myself on the dust covered road home. Only this time my basket if filled with my favorite novel and a dozen of delicious rolls for my sister and me.

As I turn around the corner to head home, I physically run into Maeve, a girl my age that I've known since we were practically children.

She's currently wearing a red dress that flows around her knees, a yellow sash is wrapped around her waist and a matching yellow bow tied in her hair.

"Hey, Maeve," I say, as decent as I can. "How are you?"

Maeve throws her hands on her hips and pouts brightly rose colored lips. "Hi, Calum. I haven't seen you around lately. Where've you been? Don't tell me you've found another little lady have you?"

I feel my eyes roll at her remark. "Maeve, I've told you once, and twice, and I'm sure I will tell you again, I'm not interested. I'm sorry. Now please, if you excuse me, I have errands to run for Mali and me."

As I walk away Maeve folds her arms over one another and gives me a glaring look, not saying a word. And as I walk past her hair flows right into my face, becoming tangled as it brushes against my cheeks.

"Why are you so weird, Calum? Always paying attention to useless things like those books that Cettlewell gives you instead of paying attention to people around you."

 _Like you?_ I think.

Continuing on my path I disregard her comments, leaving her behind. I hear Maeve give a sigh and storm off into her father's local brewery, where no doubt, she will complain to him about our encounter. It's not like I've heard her remarks numerous times before, and I'm sure that numerous times are bound to come. For some unknown reason, Maeve cannot understand that I'm not interested in her or a relationship with her, which seems to be the only thing that's on her mind.

As I walk home my feet actually begin to sprint, that's how excited I am to get this new addition into my collection of kept books. I can't wait to stick my nose in it once I'm done with today's chores. As I run the sun beats down on my back. Maybe today wasn't the best day to wear my favorite shirt and vest, but I was going out and I consider that to be a special occasion. Once I reach my house my lungs gasp for air and my body feeling heavy. Beads of sweat line my face. And as I enter my home, Mali is in the kitchen giving me a strange look.

"Where's the fire little brother?" she says, stirring a bowl that is in her hands. "I'm making your favorite for lunch. I thought that would be nice."

I set the basket down on the counter. "Thanks."

I throw myself on the couch as Mali begins to drone on about her day; how the moronic neighbor down the street still thinks he has a chance with her even though the last time they tried to "date" he ended up forgetting her name, how our horse Buttercup needs new hay, how our housecat Daisy is the laziest thing she's ever seen.

Although I agree with these statements I say, "Mali, do you think I'm weird?"

I see her cock her head as she still prepares food in the kitchen. "Why would you say that?"

I roll off the couch as I see our cat walk through the archway. I pick her up and hold her in my arms. Daisy ends up running up my forearm and drapes herself over my shoulder. For one reason or another this cat likes to be held like so. She's such a baby it's almost comedic.

"I don't know," I continue. "I just get this overwhelming feeling that besides Mr. Cettlewell and Mrs. Remoe the town’s people don't understand me."

I hear Mali scoff from where she stands. "What about Maeve? She seems to appreciate you. She's pretty," she offers.

"Yeah, and she's also abrasive, and callous, and blunt and impolite. She just isn't right for me," I counter.

Mali sighs and turns around to face me. "Well, not to turn the subject completely around, but once I save enough money to open a shop for us, our lives will be completely changed. Maybe we can move to a new city and you'll find a girl there. I'm close, you know? Only a few more months of working at Mrs. Devux's shop and we'll be packed up with Daisy and Buttercup and be on our way. That sound good to you?"

I nod my head at her encouraging words. Sure, it sounds nice, but I'll miss the two people that make this town worth bearable. Besides the beautiful scenery, there isn't anything for me here. It gives me hope that maybe we'll find a town with more than one bookstore. I have no doubt that Mali will soon open her own restaurant. Once people finally realize what a great chef she really is, she won't be waiting tables anymore. She'll be in charge of it all.

"Actually, that brings me to my next point, Calum." My ears perk up from the possible news that my sister brings. She continues, "I'm actually leaving today. I wrote a letter to a possible seller of a current restaurant in Morillo and he seems interested in what I have to offer. It's miles away, we'd be gone from here for good. It's a decent city and we'd have our own place above the restaurant. What do you think?"

I let Daisy on the ground and give my sister a big hug. "I think it's perfect, Mal. I think it's perfect."

"Well, I'm glad you think so. I'll be make lunch and I'll be on my way with Buttercup to our new possible home," she smiles, her teeth glistening and pure excitement in her voice.

"It sounds perfect," I say as I lay back on the couch, resting my head on a pillow while Daisy jumps on my stomach. She snuggles against my neck and shoulder and begins to purr. I drift off to sleep to the sound of her musical murmur.

  



	2. Chapter 2

Mali has been missing for five days. No sign of her or Buttercup for almost a week. I know she mentioned Morillo being miles away from our current home, but how far is it really? I can't help but to think the worst may have happened to my sister.

I stare at Daisy from my couch, my hands clasped together and pressed to my lips.

"What do I do, cat?" I say directly to Daisy. She cocks her head to the right and flops on her back. "What am I doing? I'm losing it... I'm asking a cat for advice." I mush my face into my palms. "And now I'm talking to myself aloud," I say, shaking my head.

I _am_ losing it. I'm terribly afraid my sister is lost, missing or worse, possibly dead. She packed food and fresh water for her and Buttercup prior to leaving. She said she'd be back in three days. It's been more than that now.

Realizing that Mali quite possibly wanted to look into the city with more detail, I relax at the notion. She probably wanted to travel around, talk to a few people. Maybe even find if there is a local bookstore for me. She knows that's my only criteria for our new home.

Hoping that I could take my mind off Mali and my anxiety, I grab my favorite woven blanket that my mother made, along with a new book and walk towards the open area behind the stable. Daisy follows me right at my ankles, weaving in and out of my legs between strides. Her white fluffy tail looks like the dandelions that are sprouting in the open field. As I lay my blanket on the ground she immediately curls up in a ball in one of the corners. Her soft purrs are finely tuned as always.

I'm deep in the trance of reading; imagining each description and image the author paints in my mind, the words jumping off the page and illustrating the detailed scenes for me to envision. This is my favorite part about reading. The simple strand of words becoming stories of tragic tales, epic heroism, romances of the centuries. It consumes my mind and takes me to an island where only I inhabit it.

It's my own world.

As I'm in a daze, dozing off in fantasyland, I hear a clacking sound off in the distance. Out of curiosity I look up from the large book resting in my lap. From the furthest hill I see Buttercup running towards home.

Without the carriage.

Without Mali.

 _No_.

My worst fear becomes a reality when I realize that Mali is not with Buttercup. She's not even in the near distance. Mali is simply _gone_.

Buttercup finally reaches me and jumps up, practically knocking me over. I notice she's spooked which only confirms my suspicions.

"Easy girl, easy," I coo, stroking her nose. "Where's Mali?" I ask but I know the question is effortless, I won't get an answer. I look down at the book and blanket resting on the dry, grassy land.

And I know it's a rash, decision, a gamble even, but I instantly know that I must look for Mali. I can't just wait here knowing that she could be lost in the wilderness or possibly dead. I'll be risking my own safety, but Mali is the only one I have left in my life that I care about. Without her, I would have no family at all.

I have to take the chance.

I give Buttercup an apologetic look, knowing that she'll probably resent me after I make her endure her travel all over again. Before leaving I pack up a few things before leaving on our journey. I hope I leave enough food for Daisy, not knowing how long we'll be.

After mentally preparing myself I decide that yes, I am making the right decision, that the doubt in the back of my mind is just fear eating away at my brain.

I'm Calum Hood and I'm about to conquering the world.

Before jumping on Buttercup's back and grabbing the reigns I take a huge breath and let it out slowly through my nose.

"I can do this. I will find Mali," I say aloud, empowering myself even further. I can do _this_.

Knowing that Mali headed off towards the opposite side of town, towards the back of the house, I steer Buttercup in that direction. She seems to realize where she's going quickly. At least I'm assuming that she has that instinct, but I might just be hoping for the best. The last thing I need is false optimism though.

After an hour long ride on Buttercup's back, I'm becoming uncomfortable in my stance and situation.

"Okay, girl we're gonna rest for a while, " I say as we approach a peacefully looking forest, full of lush green and a plethora of trees. Just a simple path leading through the dense woods. I swiftly hop off her back and feed her a few carrots. A puddle rests right before the entrance of the wood and she quickly laps of the water. Leaving me with a fresh apple I packed earlier.   
Taking a seat on a log I crunch into my red apple, tasting sweet and tart all at the same time. I end up eating most of my apple and leaving the core for Buttercup. From where I sit I can hear the sweet songs of birds chirping from inside. So peaceful, and canorous I almost begin to doze off.

Right when I begin to close my eyes, I feel cold, wet slime brushing against my cheek. My eyes flutter open, seeing Buttercups eyes meeting my own. Her snout pressed up, and nudging my cheek.

"Okay!" I shout. "I got it I'm lazy! Now let me get up."

Once I'm settled back onto Buttercups back. We're heading into the woods at a rapid speed. The horse’s muscles constrict and release as she glides through the forest full of green. Carefully, the large animal weaves in and out of bushes and shrubs that get in our way.

I soon realize that our scenery is changing. No longer is the green captivating and luscious, but _dead_. Dark and inky black colors are now replacing the color that once was. The color of sharp bruises is all I see. The chirping of the birds also cease and instead I hear deafening cracking.

And it's all closing in on us.

"Hurry!" I shout above the roar of sounds that seem to be escaping from the ground.

The forest is psychically moving towards us. The trees are encasing us in a suffocating prism. Their roots beginning to turn up right in the ground, trying to trip Buttercup as she runs from their traps. Not only are the plants seem to be moving but also _talking_. Additional sounds that stream through the air mimics menacing laughter and chuckles. Leaving me feel intimidated by the ferociousness of the forest. How is something so beautiful so _deceiving_?

Is this this what got Mali? Was this her end? No. It can't be. Buttercup is too determined, like she knows every move the forest is going to make already. I notice that she quickly makes her leaps even before a root comes up from the dirt. She went through this before.

With Mali.

Then I see it, a light at the end of the everlasting tunnel, a glimpse of possible life. And Buttercup is running right towards it.

"Come on, Buttercup," I whisper under my breath.

She takes one last stride, heaving her huge body over the giant branch that comes crashing down before us, leaving us in an open range like before. Bright blue, cloudless sky hangs above us. I jump off the horse and practically crumble to the ground. I feel like my soul is drained emotionally and physically from what transpired in the woods. I'm running on empty.

Half of the feeling comes from the pure evil that seems to enchant the woods, but the other half is the fact that there was no sign of Mali.

I begin to feel helpless, useless. That the whole point of this journey is futile. I'll never find my sister and I'll never know what happened to her.

This time I physically crumble to the ground and begin weeping. My eyes become flooded with tears and I can no longer hold in the meaningless feelings I seem to have towards my actions. I'm overridden with desperate despair and discouragement.

I'm not as strong as I think I am.

In the middle of my scene I feel the wet muzzle belonging to Buttercup once again brushing against my side.

A slight laugh escapes my throat along with one last sob that I almost choke down completely.  "Okay, I'll get up," I say.

She nudges me again and stares deeply into my eyes, maybe searching for something that may leave me with hope.

"You really think we can do this?" I ask, almost like a statement because that's what I truly see. Animal intuition, I suppose. Brushing away the dirt that now stains my clothes and shake off the vile feelings that the forest left me with. That place is poison. "Come on girl," I call out, but Buttercup doesn't break out in her long strides, not at all. She lightly trots. Her hooves gently hitting the ground at an even pace. It sounds like music to my ears and I smile. Maybe that's her plan, make me feel calm and relaxed.

We travel for another hour or so until the sun begins to set in the distance.

Upon reaching a bridge above no water below it, Buttercup stops in her tracks.

"Come on!" I yell. Not moving a muscle, I consider throwing a carrot in front of her to get the horse trotting again. Once I do she becomes fine stone, barely even breathing. "What's wrong?" I ask, hopping off her back and heading towards the sturdy looking bridge in front of me. Once I gently step on the wood a crackling sound beneath my feat consumes the sound. I have to cover my ears from the startling blast that arises. I feel like screaming but I stand strong, dropping my hands and waiting for the possible monstrosity that may follow. From the corner of the bridge I see a plant sprouting from the corner, but it really isn't a plant as I soon realize. The thing that pops from the bank of what used to be a river is a stout little man with scraggily grey hair past his shoulders and a beard to match. Antlers shoot out of his head and a little blue bird is perched on the left one. He's wearing green cut off pants and a fur vest the color of chocolate.

"Hello there, my name is Sleego and I'm the River Troll of Chartle. To let you pass my bridge I'm going to give you a riddle and you will try to guess the answer. If you win, you will go on. If you don't, you will wait until the sun rises tomorrow and try again. Got it?"

Sounds simple enough. Although I can't get over the fact that a real troll is standing before me. I've only read about them in fantasy books. They're not real... no way.

"Are you kidding? I can walk right past you," I taunt. The thought does come to mind, but I want to see how sly Sleego really is.

"Trust me, you seem like a smart kid. You wouldn't want to test me. So you're going to do what I say and answer my riddle. Got it?" says Sleego. His words are said simply, but his tone is acidic and menacing. I comply and nod my head. "Now, I will only the riddle once and you only get me to repeat it once. Got it?"

"Sure."  
"Alright, listen carefully. Smell me, spend me, and deliver me. I won't change. What am I?" His voice is slow and easy, but immediately I'm lost and confused. I'm good with words, I know that's true, but puzzles... that's a different story.

My hands are sweating and shaking from the anticipation. I just know that I'm not going to get this riddle. I'm not going to pass the troll or the bridge. The obstacles getting in between saving Mali are becoming impossible. My psychical ability has already be tested. How could've I prepared my mental state for this?

I think so hard my brain actually aches. _Smell me, buy me, deliver me_.

What do you smell? Stench, stink, fragrance, spice...

 _Scent_.

Then it registers.

"Scent, cent and sent!" I scream at the troll. "That's it!" I'm yelling from excitement. I actually did it! "You smell scents, you spend cents, and you send things. That has to be it!"

The gives me a slight nod. "Congratulations," he says before curling up into a ball and rolling himself of the cliff and into the nonexistent water below. I chuckle and reach for Buttercup's head.

"We did it!" I exclaim. She neighs and shakes her head. I jump on her back before heading off on our adventure.

Once we cross a bridge we are immediately climbing a decently steep hill, at least this is what I imagine for Buttercup. Eventually the hill plateaus and we're brought to a rod iron gate. Completely rusted and falling off the hinges. The gate surrounds a giant castle, like one that someone reads about in fairytale stories. It's dark and gloomy even in the moonlit night. It's eerie and I can't help but to think I hear rustling from inside.

Resting behind the gates is one of Mali's over the shoulder bags. It has to be hers! It's too familiar looking.

I forcefully push the gate open and it falls right off. I pick up the bag that lays on the floor. "Mali," I whisper. She has to be here.

The mansion sized castle, although intimidating, is fit for a king. It's beautiful and breathtaking. The architecture would only be for royalty. I tell Buttercup to stay and she seems to understand so I proceed to the castle. With its colossal stone walls weighing above me, I can only do one thing. I grab the lion shaped knocker and bang as hard as I can. Not only does someone not answer the door, but it creaks open on its own, inviting me inside.


	3. Chapter 3

"Hello?" I call out to no one in particular. "Is anyone here?" My voice is shouting louder and echoing against the walls of the spacious castle.

When I walk through the door I see a double staircase ascending from the floor above me. Red carpets run down the length of the stairs, hugging them tightly. Only one torch illuminates from the plastered sconce on the wall. The castle is decorated with everything purple and red, true regal colors. Tapestries hang from the walls and a giant rug covers the end of the runners going down the stairs. Besides those colors everything is a dreary grey and made of stone.

To the left an opening leading to what looks like a spiral set of stairs is flooded with light. Making me curious I figured that maybe the owner of the castle is somewhere up there. Maybe they know where Mali is.

I grab the torch from the sconce and carrying it with me up the stairwell. "Hello?" I say again. Maybe the person, or people, here didn't hear me before.

Once again, silence follows my question. Nothing.

I can't give hope now. I feel like Buttercup led me this way for a reason.

I reach the tip top of the stairwell, leaving me to an open area in a tower. More stone walls create a mass cool feeling and my body prickles in response. Looking around I see no signs of life. Until my eye lands on the pair of hands clutching jail cell bars off in the corner.

"Hello!" I screech at the top of my lungs.

"Calum?" a familiar voice calls.

_Mali_! I found her, I found my sister.

Sprinting over to where she is being kept captive I fall to the floor and grab her hands.

"Mali!" I say. "I found you. I actually found you. What are you doing here? Who put you here? What happened to here?"

Mali, whose clothes are now torn, ripped and smeared with dirt, looks as if she just stepped out of a fight. She looks exhausted and I can tell by the look in her face she doesn’t look healthy. I almost begin to cry at the look at her, but I'm also too happy that I found her. Mali isn't dead. She's _alive_.

Mali brings her hand to my face and caresses my cheek against her palm. "Calum, you need to leave. You need to get out of here now. It's not safe for you here. I don't know how you foundd me, but you need to _go_."

I see the tears forming in her eyes and I know that she's in danger. That maybe we're in danger, but I'm not going to let her go that easily. I came to save my sister, to find the truth about her disappearance. Knowing who did this to her will leave me feeling even more satisfied.

Mali and I don't speak. I can see in her expression she's struggling to find words. That they're forming at the tip of her tongue, but she can't process them.

In my minds I'm begging Mali to tell me what happened to her; how she ended up this way and how did she get here, but I see fear blossoming in her eyes, appearing out of nowhere. She begins to shiver.

"Run!" she yells with an ear splitting scream. "Run!" She pushes my hands off her wrists and stands up.

Behind me I hear rustling in the dark shadows.

"What are you doing here?" bellows a deep voice, filling the whole room. "How did you get in here?"  
"How did I get in here? What are you doing with my sister! Please let her go. She didn't do anything wrong!" I plea. I'm not one who begs for what they want, but for Mali I would do anything. She raised me from when I was just a kid and shaped me into the person I now am. I'm not going to let my sister slip through my fingers like this.

A low growl escapes from the shadows. "She's my prisoner! Mine," the voice echoes.

In a glance I see locks of flowing hair showing itself in the moonlight. "Wait, show yourself," I pressure. "Come into the light."

With a husky snarl, followed by a grunt and massive creature forms from the corner. A beast covered head to toe in mangy fur with sparkling eyes like an ocean. Like a monster I've read about somewhere in a fairy tale. His claws protrude from is paws in sharp razor points. His teeth glistening against the moonlight. The creature doesn't look real; in between a human and an animal.

"Don't look at me like that," the creature hisses. "Now get out of here! Get out of here now!"

"No!" I shout back. "No, you have to let her go."

"I can't do that," the beast growls.

"Then-then," I stammer. I feel as if my throat is constricting and my words are refusing to make their way through. "Then take me instead. Just release her from this godforsaken place."

The beast nods his head slowly and unlocks the prison door. "If you're such a fool, then fine. Taker her place."

Once the door opens Mali runs into my arms and I hug her tight, not wanting to let go.

"Calum," she says gently. "You're so foolish!" Mali practically laughs and I can't help but to smile. "You're crazy to think that I won't try to rescue you," she whispers so the beast doesn't over hear. Her words barely audible to my ears. "I'm coming back for you."

The beast grabs her by her arm, dragging her away from me. Her hand still clutched to my forearm as she's pulled.

"Mali!" I shout, but I get no response. They're already down the stairwell.

When I look outside to see where the beast takes Mali, he walks over to a broken down carriage next to a dead and woeful garden. I hear the beast mumble something under his breath. The only thing I understand is, "town." It's dark outside, but I know that what I see I'm not imagining; the carriage lifts itself up and begins to walk away from the uprooted garden.

I can’t help but to wonder that this whole castle is full of enchantment.

I hear the beast heading up the stairs again and I immediately retreat to the cold jail cell.

My new home.

I know Mali said she will come rescue me, but to what extent? When she goes running to the village people telling them about the beast that lives in a magical castle people are going to believe that she is insane. Mali will receive no help from anyone. My sister will be left an outcast, a lunatic of the town. My heart aches at the thought. She doesn't deserve the ridicule, but I know its coming. That's just how people are.

Once the beast enters the room he doesn't even look me in the eye. He doesn't even have the decency to show me that much respect.

"Uh," he murmurs. "Let me show you to your room."

"What?" I say, shocked.

"Just follow me," he replies harshly.

Reluctant to move, I push myself off the wall I was leaning against. I feel as if this is a trap. Why do I get special treatment and Mali didn't? There is no reason why the beast is showing me kindness and not my sister.

As we descend the stairwell I notice a candelabra that rests in a nook and once I look at it I swear that I see eyes and throws a wink in my direction. I keep walking and almost fall over on the beast, tripping on his robes. He tells me to watch it. And I do.

He picks up the candelabra and holds it to light our way. I don't even see it blink.

The beast leads me down a long corridor filled with only more tapestries and rugs, matching the ones from the main entryway. A few paintings line the walls, but nothing really stands out. Except the sinister looking gargoyles that seem to be perched above us. Their faces are squished and their teeth snarled. If I can escape a magical, violent forest I could handle some evil looking statues.

The beast doesn't say one word until we're halfway down the corridor. He heaves a sigh and says, "Now that I guess this is your home, you can roam free wherever you'd like. All except for the west wing."

"What's in the west wing?" I ask out of curiosity.

"It's forbidden. You must not go there..." his voice trails on to another mumble. I almost ask him to repeat is words but something tells me that I would make him more upset. He does seem to be a grouchy creature.

We reach the end of the hallway and he turns two nobs of double doors.

"Well, here's your room," he says lacking gusto. The beast quickly adds, "You will join me for dinner!" He slams my door shut which creates a gust of wind, blowing my black hair from its place.

Demanding my presence at his dinner table, requiring me to accompany him makes me feel sick.

Without further question I collapse on to my bed. Allowing the puffy spread suck me into the light feathers inside of it.

I'm lost. I will never find my way home.

I'm conquered. The everlasting spirit I thought was in me disappeared.

I'm defeated. There is no way for me to achieve my freedom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for: 1) this being a relatively short chapter and 2) the excessive dialogue.


	4. Chapter 4

The threads lining the comforter weave in and out of my fingers. My head is propped up and I'm lying on my stomach wondering where I went wrong, how I landed myself in this place. Of course I know exactly what happened. I saved my sister from the awful jail cell she was doomed to, and in return I, myself am now convicted to the same fate. I know that if I weren't here right now she would be in my place. The words she said to me still ring through my skull. Mali will come back for me.

I shouldn't be pessimistic, but I am. No one will believe what she says. A tall tale about a lonely beast roaming and an enchanted castle. With this is in mind, I feel as my fate is sealed. At the same time, I should have some sense of hope. Which brings me back to the thought-provoking, vicious cycle roaming my head.

Snapping myself out of my self-conscious battle, I look outside to see snowflakes falling. Some cling to the windows. Snow, that's something I'm not usually used too.

The only time I've ever seen snow before was when I was six and my family were visiting relatives a few towns over. My parents were with us then and Mali was almost ten. She was actually celebrating her birthday that week.

The first day we sat in front of the fireplace, warming our bodies and the whole family exchange stories about each other. How I never seemed to put down a book and my imagination ran free and wild, how Mali always wanted to be in the kitchen baking or making meals for our family, leaving us all happy with our bellies full of her creations. It was strange, yet nice, to hear my parents talk about me and be proud in the tiny accomplishments I already made; finishing the first book I ever completed on my own, creating my own magnificent stories and reciting them to my parents, having the desire to pick up ink and a quill myself with the hopes of illustrating my own tales.

It's the fondest memories of my parents that I have, before the accident. Before everything changed. Before it was only Mali and me.

And I remember the next day running out the front door into the abundance of white snow. It zapped my body into such a state that I couldn't even feel my fingers curl and I fell in love with the feeling. While I was falling and bouncing into the soft blanket of white powder, Mali stayed in side, practically frozen. She hated the way the snow made her feel, cold and shivering. I think I lived outside until my parents told me I couldn't anymore. They said I could get sick from the wet clothes that clung to my body.

Although I didn't want too, I acquiesced and turned in my fun in the snowfall for the warmth of the heater until the snow was able to melt and we were off to go home once again.

Now looking out the window the feeling of nostalgia floods my thoughts, but this time I have reluctance to flop around in the sleet covering the ground. It doesn't feel the same without my family to be here with me.

Breaking me from my daydream is a light tapping at the door followed by a squeaky voice, like a child's.

"Knock, knock!" a little boy sings.

A slight smile breaks out to my face. It makes me happy that maybe I'm not the only person living in the castle with a monster. Maybe he can explain to me what exactly happened here.

When I open the door I see no one standing in front of me.

"Hello?" I ask to the open space. Maybe the little boy is playing a joke on me and ran away as I opened the door.

"Hey, down here!" calls the gentle voice once again.

When I look down I see a tiny little cup bouncing his way into my room, making a little tapping sound as he hops along the stone floor. As if he practically came to life. He has little beady eyes and a smile to complete him. Decorated in a beautiful color palette, he matches the rest of the house: a little white cup lined with two red and two purple stripes on the rim and the base. His little handle a bright shimmering gold as if he was just polished. As he trots in, following behind him is a teakettle, painted in the same pattern. This object additionally has big, bulbous eyes and long, flowing eyelashes that line them. It has a welcoming smile to complete its look.

"Hi, Dearie, thought you'd enjoy a cup of tea. Sounds like a long evening," suggest the little teakettle. Turns out that it has a female voice, chipper and sweet.

By her words I step behind me until my back bumps into the large dresser against the wall. A little giggle escapes from behind me.

"Oh, sorry! I seem to get in the way sometimes," says an additional lively voice behind me. "I tend to be on the larger side."

I turn around to see the dresser becoming brought to life like the other objects I've come into contact with. Her eyes large and wide, just like the teakettle.

My eyes feel wide and open looking at the creatures surrounding me. How did this happen?

"Sorry, to be bothering you. You'd find us sooner or later. Thought we should introduce ourselves. I'm Mrs. Bucket, and here is my boy Nic," says the teakettle, tipping herself over and filling up the little cup to her side. She fills him up to the rim with steamy, hot tea. The wisps of steam rising from the liquid.

I nod my head slightly and give a smile. "Thank you! You're very kind and... generous," I offer, picking up the cup now filled with tea.

"Hi, I'm Nic!" shouts the cup.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Calum," I say back, taking a sip of the delicious tea. It flows down my throat, warming every inch of my body, and settles to my empty stomach with a soothing feeling.

"We heard what you did for your sister, Calum," says Mrs. Bucket. "That was very brave of you."

"Thanks. I couldn't stand her seeing her like that." But I don't stop there... I continue. My thoughts race together all at once, unable to communicate with my voice to speak them coherently. "I had to save her. I couldn't let her stay in that awful, cramped, dirty cell. Everything she touched left and an inky, dirt trace of filth on her dress. I couldn't let her leave her dreams to die like that. I couldn't let _our_ dreams die like that! She deserves so much more than this fate, locked behind bars, secluded to only four walls. She was both a mother and sister to me when things were bad. Mali kept me safe. Now it’s my turn," I choke out as my throat becomes thick and I'm holding back my tears.

I'm Calum Hood and I'm _brave_.

"It was my turn..." I repeat, my voice trickling off. I wonder how long it will take until I can talk about Mali without losing my composure. It seems like every time I even say her name I can’t help but to feel bitter about letting her go from my reach.

I should’ve fought harder for the both of us. How can I consider myself such a brave man when I’m such an obvious coward?

The objects sitting before me exchange glances with each other, knowing very well that none of them had nothing to say. Nothing to reply with besides their apologies, which wouldn't get us anywhere. They couldn't save me now. No one could.

Nic bumps into my foot, gesturing to take another sip. I quickly gulp down the now cooled tea and set him on the ground. Mrs. Bucket gives him a little nod and nudges against him.

"Well," she begins in her cheery voice, "better get dinner on the table. Would hate to be late... again. Don't want leave the Beast in the same state as last time." Mrs. Bucket and Nic chuckle to each other as they leave the door open, unable to close it. Mrs. Bucket turns back to me. "I'm sorry, Dearie. You know that."

My only reply is a slight nod.

Once they both have left, I hop back on my bed and hug one of the pillows in my arms. It is crushed by the force and instantly becomes flat in my grasp.

Suddenly I hear a clicking against the stone floor. "Let's get you something nice to wear for dinner, Sweetie," says the large bureau coming towards me. She opens the doors and a few hangers fall out. "Oh! I'm so sorry, I'm a bit rusty at this," she giggles to herself. "Here's a nice one!" She glances at a navy blue dress shirt draped on a hanger. "This almost looks like the one you're currently wearing, just clean."

I can't help but to roll my eyes.

"You're very kind, but I'm not going," I say blatantly.

"But you must!" she insists, her mouth agape. Is she surprised that I may have the audacity to taunt the roaring beat on the other side of the double doors?

A small knock comes from the door once again, and a new voice calls out, "Dinner is served!"

I exchange a look between the dresser once again. "I'm not going," I whisper. As a reply she closes her doors and shrugs her nonexistent shoulders.

After laying in my bed for a few more minutes and staring outside the window looking at the snow, I hear a voice screech from almost a mile away, but it feels like the source is inches from me. Soon enough the doors to my room is being banged on with powerful fists capable of shaking the whole castle. Objects laying on the counters and nightstand begin to rumble, challenging the Beast to make them fall off by the force of his paws.

"What do you mean you're not coming to dinner?" yells the Beast in an outraged tone. I can only imagine him so unsettled on the other side of the door and it brings me pleasure to know that he's suffering. Just like me. His actions only portray how I feel.

"I'm not hungry," I say in a measly voice.

I hear a growl followed by, "I'll break down the door." A threat? I’d like to see him try.

The Beast don't scare me. He's angry and afraid and I don't know why. But he simply has no reason to be. _I'm_ the one that's being kept here against my will! _I'm_ the one that should be throwing things, and knocking down doors, and demanding people to let me go.

Whispers outside the door sneak through the cracks between underneath. I can’t understand any of the words clearly and I move slightly closer.

Then in an almost human voice, I hear the Beast say, "Will you come down for dinner?"

"No thanks." Since he can't see me, I snicker to myself and stifle my laughs.

"You can't stay locked away forever!"

"I _beg_ to differ!" I retort sarcastically.

The Beast huffs. "Fine! You'll starve," and to the others who have joined him on the other side he yells, "If she doesn't eat with me she doesn't eat at all!"

I imagine him sauntering away feeling defeated, but the Beast really doesn’t have any idea what that's like. He's not the one caged in a castle, unable to leave. He doesn't have a caretaker who is incapable of feeling empathy. He doesn't feel like the piece of someone's personal game.

Or maybe, he does.

After all, how did the Beast become such a _monster_?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this makes up for the last chapter!


End file.
